"04 - Emperor and Clown 1.0" - читать интересную книгу автора (Duncan Dave)

5
However much Andor might be enjoying himself out in the sheik's pleasance, back
in the dingy kitchen quarters of the rambling mansion, the chairs were hard and
the hot air rancid with scents of long-dead cooking. Gnats and moths twirled
around the smelly lamps and held races on the low ceiling. Gathmor crossed his
ankles the other way and eased his back. The bulky djinn on the other side of
the table scowled at him briefly and went back to scratching his armpits. He had
not spoken a word to Gathmor all evening, which was fine by Gathmor; from the
smell of him the oaf was a camel driver by trade, now being used as watchdog to
make sure the jotunn behaved himself. Gathmor would like very much to see him
try. He'd observed many others wander through the scullery during his long wait;
he'd take on any two of them cheerfully.
The women, on the other hand ... Even wrapped like corpses, they moved like
elves, and there was something challenging in all that concealment and the swirl
of cloth as they hurried past on their master's business. It really caught a
man's imagination; made him watch the folds shift for a hint of how much lay
beneath, and where. The flame-red eyes ... After all, Wanmie must have died in
Kalkor's massacre, and in some ways that was beginning to feel like a long time
ago. In some ways. Not that she'd have grudged him a nibble or two at another
table, once in a while, had he ever wanted that. He was very tempted to try
speaking to the next shrouded maiden who came through-and not just to rouse the
camel driver, either.
He'd had as much boredom as he could stand. He'd been in this squalid pesthole
for four or five hours, capping two days of useless talk and argument and mostly
waiting around. Waiting for Thinal, or Darad. And now Andor. Or being a common
porter-sometimes a man would do for a shipmate what he wouldn't dream of doing
for himself.
A large youth stuck his head round the door. "You! Your master wants you."
Gathmor smiled and said softly, "Did I hear you correctly?" The camel driver
brightened and glanced at the youth. For a moment the evening began to look
interesting.
"Your friend?" the youth said, scowling.
" `Employer' would do," Gathmor admitted, and heaved himself to his feet. "Lead
on, Valiant." Turning red faces redder was the best fun he'd found in Zark so
far. It wasn't much.
He swung his bundle up on his back and followed. Common porter!
When he reached the door, he saw that Andor was as good as dismasted. So the
sailor took the proffered lantern in one hand and a firm grip on the imp's arm
with the other, and steered him out into the night before the cheerfully
wine-scented farewells were finished. The door thumped shut behind them; bars
and chains rattled behind it, and the night was hot.
It was also dark. He'd been rash, Gathmor realized, going outdoors before he'd
got his night eyes back; he wasn't used to these landlubber games. He pulled
Andor back into the doorway again, raising the lantern high to peer at all the
shadows. Andor hiccuped discreetly.
There were a lot of shadows, but most of them were too small to conceal
anything. The walls were very high, but moonlight played its magic in places,
and some windows still glowed here and there. A few households kept lamps
burning above their doors.